Noel Nadesan, an article entitled “Celebrating Fifty Years at Peradeniya”
My wife, Shiamala, and I travelled from Nagapattinam, the south coast of Tamil Nadu, to Kankesanthurai (KKS) in Northern Sri Lanka by ferry, which now runs regularly. Instead of flying directly to Colombo from New Delhi, I flew to Madurai and then drove for several hours to the east coast, to Nagapattinam. This port, once a bustling hub during the Chola era, when kings and their navy set sail to Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia, has now lost its former glory, reduced to a quiet fishing town.
The ferry journey across the Palk Strait took about four hours and was quite comfortable. Customs checks, however, were more rigorous than at an airport, especially on the Indian side. Officers were alert, fearing the possibility of Kashmiri militants attempting to slip into Sri Lanka. This was not just paranoia—Tamil news outlets had reported similar concerns.
Many Indian tourists were on board, along with Jaffna business people who were once again buying saris in bulk from Tamil Nadu to sell in Jaffna for a small profit. This traditional trade had vanished during the Thirty Years’ War but seems to be slowly returning.
At KKS, Sri Lankan customs were more relaxed for me, perhaps because I was travelling with an Australian passport and holding dual citizenship. The officer was courteous, but that courtesy was not extended to all. Many passengers and traders got into long arguments about whether their merchandise from India should be taxed.
We hired an auto-rickshaw to reach my home in Kokuvil. An elderly Malayali man, a retired gentleman carrying only a single handbag, joined us. He was headed to Anuradhapura for a three-day holiday. I was impressed by his simplicity and willingness to travel alone. We dropped him at the Jaffna bus stand.
Jaffna was sizzling, not ideal for walking and getting things done. I visited the bank, where a young female teller served me with a smile. After withdrawing some Sri Lankan rupees, I went to the fish market and was pleasantly surprised to find a bluefin tuna, rare in Jaffna’s shallow seawater and reasonably priced. I also bought some fresh vegetables. Meanwhile, Shiamala visited the Nallur Temple.
The next day, Shiamala was interviewed on Dan Tamil TV on cancer as a doctor, survivor, and also visited the CANE Cancer Palliative Centre in Chunnakam. That afternoon, we visited a friend who was recovering from chikungunya, a mosquito-borne disease we were also scared of. While we were there, a sudden, heavy rainstorm hit. Later, we were saddened to learn that a 15-year-old boy had been struck and killed by lightning while working in his garden. It was a brief downpour, but it took a young life. We were deeply moved.
The following morning, we left Jaffna for Kilinochchi, where Shiamala attended a cancer awareness meeting organised by the Rotary Club. That night, we continued to Anuradhapura. The meeting in Kilinochchi was attended by 14 people, three of whom had family members battling cancer, including some young children. It was a sobering reminder of how widespread cancer has become in Sri Lanka.
Anuradhapura
Though I worked as a young veterinarian in the 1980s and spent over three years in Medawachchiya—just fifteen miles away—I had never taken the time to visit the ancient city of Anuradhapura, despite travelling through it many times. This time, we stayed two nights in the old town and visited many of its famed Buddhist stupas. I was glad to see that many of them are being renovated and that devotees continue to pray at these sacred sites. The Ruwanweliseya Stupa was especially magnificent, standing tall and proud. Built in the 2nd century BC by King Dutugemunu, it remains a testament to the architectural and spiritual achievements of that era.
We also visited the Sri Maha Bodhiya—the world’s oldest tree with a documented history. It was planted in the Mahamevna Park by King Devanampiyatissa in the 3rd century BC and is revered by Buddhists to this day.
As someone who is not particularly religious, I found myself deeply impressed by the ancient irrigation tanks in and around Anuradhapura—namely, Nuwara Wewa, Abaya Wewa, and Tissa Wewa. Standing on their bunds, looking out over the vast quantities of water used for rice cultivation, I felt as though I was time-travelling, comparing the visionary engineering of ancient kings with the often short-sighted policies of modern Sri Lankan leaders.
We also visited the Anuradhapura Museums, which house archaeological artefacts that reveal more than a thousand years of urban sophistication and agricultural civilisation—a civilisation that sadly collapsed due to the Chola invasion.
Polonnaruwa
Polonnaruwa was the second capital of ancient Sri Lanka, established after the Chola destruction of Anuradhapura. Initially a military post, the Cholas later developed the city and constructed Hindu temples. However, after 1070 CE, the Sinhalese King Vijayabahu reclaimed the city.
While many Buddhist stupas and monasteries remain, I also observed Saiva temples, reflecting the coexistence of both religious traditions. I witnessed an extraordinary scene where a Hindu family was lighting oil lamps at a lingam in a dilapidated Shiva temple. It was a powerful indication that Buddhism and Hinduism not only coexisted but also complemented each other.
Buddhism, being a philosophy, doesn’t offer direct means for individuals to seek redemption for their sins, whereas Hinduism provides a more theistic framework with answers for many existential questions.
The great lake that forms the backbone of the region’s irrigation system was built by King Parakramabahu. His reign is considered one of the most celebrated in Sri Lankan history. The Lankathilaka Image House, constructed during his time, still showcases the architectural brilliance and artistic skill of the period.
I also visited the remnants of the Nissanka Latha Mandapaya near the great Parakrama Samudra (“Ocean of Parakrama”). Sadly, it was the Kalinga invasion from India that led to the eventual decline and destruction of Polonnaruwa.
Today, Polonnaruwa is a better-preserved ancient city compared to Anuradhapura. We stayed at a hotel on the edge of the vast Giritale Tank, enjoying the serene beauty of the historic landscape.
The journey from Polonnaruwa to Batticaloa was smooth. While many Tamils blame former President Mahinda Rajapaksa for the deaths of Tamils during the defeat of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE)—one of the most ruthless terrorist groups of our time—many Sinhalese criticise both Mahinda and his brother, Gotabaya Rajapaksa, for widespread corruption and nepotism.
I understand those criticisms, but I also see the other side—what every Sri Lankan continues to benefit from today: infrastructure. Sri Lanka now boasts world-class roads, bridges, and ports. Having travelled to many countries, I can confidently say that Sri Lankan roads are among the best.
I spent three nights at Rivera Resort, near the scenic Kallady Bridge—a truly beautiful location that also offers authentic eastern Sri Lankan cuisine. The surrounding trees and water offer a refreshing break from the summer heat.
In Kalmunai, I met a few Tamil literary friends and was impressed by the progress made in the Eastern Province since the end of the war. Development there appears to outpace that of the Northern Province. I hope the Eastern Province can chart its political path, decoupling from the Northern Province while embracing the shared language and cultural ties.
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ALSO NOTE
Well, to Noel Nadesan, you had given a deceptive title ‘a Tamil moderate’. This is an error.
According to the dictionary definition of ‘moderate’, I cite from Concise Oxford Dictionary (7th ed., 1982),
1. ‘avoiding extremes, temperate in conduct or expression’
2. ‘one who holds moderate opinion in politics etc.’
Mr. Nadesan does not qualify for these two stipulations. He is a well known anti-LTTE partisan, or BETTER a pro-Rajapaksa gang partisan. If only, you can read Tamil, I suggest that you should check Mr. Nadesan’s blog, for his personal views on politics, to verify my point. I’m not opposing Mr. Nadesan’s support for the Rajapaksa gang. He had (has) every damn right in indulging in it. Now that the fortunes of Rajapaksa gang have vanished, Nadesan is ‘playing a chameleon’ for his past deeds, between May 2009 and 2015. Tamils in Australia and elsewhere know more about Mr. Nadesan’s collaborationist activities.
You are more than welcome to re-post what Mr. Nadesan had written in his blog. Michael – it’s better if you don’t twist facts, even in one particular word. You are certainly entitled to call a middle finger, as a thumb, or re-name a thumb as a middle finger. But, will that pass muster among literary folks? In one of your earlier introductions, you had introduced Mr. Nadesan as a dentist. This is also wrong. He is a veterinarian!
Thank You SACHI. Within the context of fierce SL migrant Tamil ‘battles’ NOEL’s position struck me as relatively moderate. and thanks for indicating that he is a VET not a dentist [good that any errors of treatment under his care occur among animals rather than humans]
And THUPPAHI benefits from having you as an international SL TAMIL watch-dog. Keep batting.
I also visited the Eastern Province this year after many decades absence. It was a breath of fresh air. The natural abundance of irrigable land and water which makes the EP the rice basket of Sri Lanka makes it also one of the least densely populated areas in the island. The sensation of unbounded light and the extended vista of the landscapes creates a wholly different sensation from the claustrophobic closeness of humanity which characterises many places in Sri Lanka. Here was emptiness. But not a wasteland: as the first rice crop of the year had just been harvested, miles of dried fields stretched east, west, south and north to the horizon.
Batticoloa, squeezed into a little strip of land between lagoons and sea, was almost a fairy town. Turquoise mermaid statues greeted visitors to the town and the central roundabout boasted four large golden fish, mouths wide open, about to erupt into song. The spirit of Walt Disney had come to call.
But then there is something wondrously magical about Batticoloa, where Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity (of at least four sects) and Islam are practiced side by side in this tiny enclave of multi-cultural humanity. This town suffered dreadfully during the civil war but its lightness of spirit seems to have risen above vainglory and vengeance. While I was there, the bazaar was thronging with New Year shoppers. Lady McCallum’s Drive, a shady avenue of fine old houses with gardens facing the lagoon where birds of every sort could be glimpsed among foliage at the edge, is almost unchanged from the dear lady’s time. Across the water, the Dutch Fort still stands on the foundations of its Portuguese predecessor. Behind it on the hill, a Cross lit up blue every night. Beneath the Cross, in the day, to the left you could see the top of the gopuram of the Hindu Temple; nearby was the white pointed Buddhist stupa and to the right a Mosque. Batticoloa is a living palimpsest of layers of history and culture. Long may she endure…..
A picturesque and stirring description, JANE …. thanks. IT will uplift the Tambimuttus,Olagesekerams in my diaspora circle as well as Dennis McGilvray and others …. and all CEYLONESE.
WHAT A CONTRAST from the bitter anti-Lankan spirit which drives some of the other comments in THUPPAHI this week. ….
Michael, thanks a lot for posting my view about the activities of Noel Nadesan. I can tell you, that you are not alone in thinking ‘NOEL’s position struck me as relatively moderate’. Even my late father Siva Sachithanantham was of the same opinion like you, and he contributed regularly (an astrological counseling column) to Mr. Nadesan’s journalism vehicle ‘Uthayam’ from Melbourne, until his death in 2003. This was prior to Mr. Nadesan’s progressive tilt towards the Rajapaksa gang after 2005.